City Lights
by LittleWords
Summary: She wondered if he was still as in love with her as he was six months ago. And she wondered how, if he had been in so love with her, he could leave her so easily. PB&J.
1. Chapter 1

Pam loved New York

City Lights

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I'd like to.

… … …

Pam loved New York.

Ever since she'd visited for her interview with Jan, she had been infatuated, taken in by the city that seemed to have a life all its own. She'd never pegged herself for a city girl, but as soon as she'd set foot in New York Pam had felt a sense of excitement that she'd never felt in Scranton. She had an urge to explore, to find what little places in this big city that she could make her own.

She was as close as she'd ever been to accomplishing her dreams.

It hadn't taken Pam long after Jim left to realize that he was the only reason she'd stayed in Scranton as long as she did. It wasn't Roy or her family that kept college-educated Pam Beesly from promoting within the company or leaving it entirely, getting out of Scranton like she'd wanted to do since high school. Roy had kept her there initially, but it had been the man with tousled hair and boyish smile whose sole purpose in life seemed to be making her laugh who made her stay.

The same man who could kiss her to within an inch of her life and leave without a word the next day. Pam felt a fresh flash of anger at the thought, the same flash of anger that had given her the courage to call Jan and set up an interview for the graphic design internship in New York. Jan had all but told her it was a sure thing, and that night Pam began packing her things into boxes.

What Jan hadn't told her was that the seven graphic design interns were actually all being considered for a newly created position in corporate.

Pam was now the head of the brand new graphic design department at Dunder-Mifflin's corporate office.

She couldn't believe how quickly the time had gone by. Just six months ago Pam had been "just a receptionist," engaged to a man who'd never marry her, stuck in a job she'd never be happy doing, but now, well… Now Pam's salary had skyrocketed and she lived in an apartment that looked a lot like the one from "Friends." She'd even caught glimpses of an Ugly Naked Guy in the building next to hers from her terrace. It was a great apartment, nicer than anything that Pam could afford, but the elderly woman who'd rented it to her wasn't looking for money.

Josephine Fowler was the type of lady that most would call "grandmotherly," if you could imagine a grandmother who was worth millions. She was a petite woman in her seventies with a graceful air and an aristocratic nose. Josephine had been independently wealthy before she married her husband, who was twenty years her senior, and despite the usual dubiousness of such a gap in age, she had fallen madly in love with him and had remained so until his unfortunate passing last May. Understandably, she couldn't bear to live in their apartment without him, but she did not wish to simply let it go to the highest bidder. Instead, Josephine had chosen to hold on to the place for six months, waiting for an applicant who would fill the apartment with light and love the way that her husband had.

She had all but lost hope until she met Pam.

Hers was the last apartment on Pam's list. She'd added it on because it seemed too good to be true, and Pam liked to think she was on a bit of a lucky streak lately, so really, what could it hurt to try? And as she'd explained that to Josephine, the elderly woman's eyes lit up, and she said

"That is exactly what my Herman used to say. Young lady, the apartment is yours."

Josephine still called Pam to check up on the place and on Pam, and Pam called Josephine to lift her spirits on days that the city well and truly kicked her ass. She gave sound advice, and nothing pleased her more than hearing from Pam, since she had no children of her own.

The weekend after she moved in to her apartment, Pam went shopping to celebrate. Since she hadn't actually gone shopping in more than a year, Pam had called Kelly to come with her. Kelly agreed to go before Pam was finished inviting her, excited at the opportunity to dress her, gushing that it would be "_just_ like having a grown up my-size Barbie!" She'd started by throwing out all of Pam's old, dowdy skirts and striped blouses and sensible shoes, and then proceeded to help Pam blow her entire wedding savings on a new wardrobe. Kelly let Pam keep her cardigans, but only in bright colors, and only if she promised to wear them over a smart top and slacks, where one might wear a suit jacket. Pam had traded in her trusty Keds for her ever-expanding shoe collection, and walked surprisingly well in heels.

Pam had her hair blown out at a salon, at Kelly's insistence, and from that point on had never allowed it to droop mousily around her shoulders. Instead, Pam spent time on herself in the morning, fixing her makeup just so, and styling her hair into the classic, large curls that she loved but hadn't had time to fix when she was with Roy.

Pam started every day feeling confident and attractive, and had proven to be a great team leader. She was able to point out where a piece needed work without sounding overly critical and creating tension, and was also a fountain of creative ideas when her design team was stuck.

And Pam loved her design team. She had a total of six people working under her: three interns and three full-time employees, and they all showed the same level of dedication and commitment to their projects as Pam did. At the risk of sounding like Michael Scott, Pam thought that she was a pretty good boss. But unlike Michael Scott, everybody on Pam's team thought so, too.

Together, they tackled a wide range of projects. They'd designed a new website for the company, complete with a more modern, stylized logo, but maintained the personal feel that had become Dunder-Mifflin's trademark by including staff spotlights on the front page. The first one had been Pam and her team, at Jan's insistence. They'd also produced a series of animated commercials for the company that had proven to be very successful. Sales had gone up, way up, in the last quarter, and everybody but Dwight was giving credit where it was due, to Pam and her design team.

Pam had kept in touch with people from the Scranton branch, particularly Phyllis and Kelly. Phyllis and Pam exchanged emails about office goings-on, and lately about Phyllis' upcoming wedding. Occasionally Phyllis would drop in a little bit about Jim, but Pam never asked about him directly. Kelly emailed or called Pam every day from the office, mostly to talk about Ryan and their "relationship" and to ask Pam's advice, which she always dismissed by saying "But you haven't dated for like, _ever" _but Pam didn't really mind. She liked to bounce ideas off of Kelly because, annoying as she could get, Kelly certainly had an eye for trends.

But for all of Pam's success, she still thought about Jim on an all too regular basis. He'd left her without saying goodbye, and she'd done the same to him. Although he wasn't actually there for her to leave, she hadn't been there for him to come back to when the Stamford-Scranton merger took place. She hadn't even called him when she called off her wedding, and certainly not when she moved to New York because somehow, Pam was still really angry at him. They hadn't spoken since Casino Night, when he'd taken her entire world and flipped it around, and then left before she could process it all. She wondered if he still thought about her, if he'd seen her picture on the new website, if he was still as in love with her as he was six months ago. And she wondered how, if he had been in so love with her, he could leave her so easily.

Those were the thoughts that plagued her on nights like tonight, when she was alone in her apartment, curled up on her couch with a soft fleece blanket, a good book, and a bowl of ramen noodles. Rain fell softly outside, and Pam thought it made a perfect atmosphere for quiet night in. It occurred to Pam that she spent a lot of quiet nights in. She was probably the single most boring person in New York. Who moved to New York to spend nights alone in their apartment?

_Maybe_, she thought, _it's time to spend a night out._

A bright flash of lightning lit up Pam's apartment, and was followed closely by a loud crack of thunder as the sky opened up over New York City. Pam's lights flickered off and on, and fat raindrops mercilessly pounded her windows.

Pam could go out another night.

… … …

The sun was back out by the time Pam got to work the next morning, and had sunk below the horizon by the time she got home. It had been a long day, but Pam loved every minute of it.

The day had started with a meeting of all of the department heads with David Wallace, just like every Monday, where each department gave a status report and shared any ideas they had that could boost profits. Pam looked forward to these meetings, always willing to brag about her team and share whatever ideas they'd come up with. David Wallace liked to point out that he could always count on Pam to throw a fresh idea into the mix every Monday. And when it was Pam's turn to speak in the meeting, she did not disappoint.

"Well, last week Jan and I were discussing stationary as an avenue the company really hasn't explored yet. I pitched it to my team, and we came up with a few ideas." Pam stood and passed out manila folders to the people seated at the conference table. "Inside those folders you'll find what we've created to potentially compete with other stationary suppliers like Staples, and we could even look into selling our products at stores like Target that don't specifically deal in office supplies. You'll notice that the pieces range from classic and professional for a business setting, to fresh and trendy for a younger demographic."

She paused for a moment, allowing the group to look over the several sheets of paper in their folders, waiting for their reactions. After a few nods, all eyes were back on her. David Wallace spoke first.

"This is very impressive, Pam. I know this isn't your area, but do you have an idea for introducing this?"

Pam nodded in the affirmative.

"Yes, we were thinking a promotional sale at first, to gauge interest among our existing clients, and also using the stationary ourselves for mailers to potential clients. Using something other than the standard bright white would really say something about the way we do business; it's definitely more personal, which is what we pride ourselves on. It would cost us a little more in the short run, but it's a statement that I think is worth sending."

David Wallace clasped his hands on the table in front of him, his face pensive but optimistic.

"And how would we get all the branches on board?"

Pam smiled. "Well David, we'd start by sending a design representative with several different logo options for the branch's personal stationary, and let them choose which combination they like. On your sample sheets you'll see that we've designed seven different logos, all of them interchangeable with any of the paper styles."

"It sounds like you've really put a lot of thought into this, Pam. We'll take it under consideration and you'll hear from us either way by the end of the day."

Pam had evidently impressed the group more than usual, because she'd heard back from them within the hour. Wallace had told her that the committee was really invested in the idea, and wanted to get the ball rolling ASAP. ASAP, as in Pam was meeting with the advertising coordinator to plan the best possible introduction for Pam's line that afternoon.

It had taken them until nearly ten o'clock at night, but Pam and the advertising coordinator, a sleek, corporate type named Phillip, had come up with a plan. They'd lump the new stationary collection in with the website launch party first thing in the New Year (the website was already up and running, but they hadn't officially "launched" it yet. Pam didn't know why a party was necessary, but chalked it up to Michael rubbing off on Jan, infecting her with his constant need for celebration). Pam would personally consult with the staff of each branch before then, getting their individual branch orders and hand-delivering special promotional packages for each employee as "holiday presents," along with the Dunder-Mifflin bathrobes they gave out every year.

On top of that, Pam and her team were going to create an entire section of the website where the more tech-savvy clients could customize their own stationary with the help of the salesmen, who would be receiving a crash course in the new service in the coming weeks, and corporate would be ordering the first custom paper to test the system for possible bugs. It wouldn't be anything too complicated, just choosing their own weight and style of paper and entering text in a variety of fonts to be embossed if they so chose. The design would be submitted to the salesmen, who would be responsible for checking it for errors, pricing the order, and of course, the final sale. It was a wonderful way to incorporate technology while also increasing the role of the sales department, whose value David Wallace had a reputation for doubting.

And somehow, Pam had also earned herself a raise and a company car, which she'd be picking out on Wednesday. She'd only been in corporate for about six months, but Jan told her she'd earned it for being "so consistently amazing," and Pam was not about to argue. She had, after all, made the company a fortune. She'd also _need_ a company car, because Pam would be doing some traveling over the next two weeks.

Pam would be responsible for training the sales crew at the newly merged Dunder-Mifflin Northeast.

She'd be going home.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I haven't forgotten about 'Six Weeks,' I promise. I'll update it soon! So, I'm gonna let you all in on a secret: I don't know where this story's going. I have a rough idea, but I haven't made any decisions yet, and I would love love love your input. Here's chapter two!

City Lights

Chapter Two

Pam was listening to Styx's "Renegade" as she neared the Scranton office. Jim had told her years ago about Dwight's pre-sale power music habit, and when everything else had failed to get Pam psyched up she'd decided to give it a try, popping Styx's greatest hits into the CD player of her brand new Nissan 350z and cranking it up.

Pam had gone company car shopping with Jan on Wednesday of the week before. She had been looking at the small and practical Versas and Sentras when Jan had told her to live a little, pulling her over to the row of small, sporty cars. Pam had tried to argue, insisting that the car cost too much and wasn't practical, but Jan had repeated the words that stuck in her mind over six months ago.

"_There are always a million reasons not to do something, Pam."_

Only this time, Jan had said them with a devilish grin, and Pam had driven away that day in a sleek black sports car. It was such an un-Pam like car to buy, but Pam had fallen in love with it right when she laid eyes on it, just as she'd fallen in love with New York City six months ago. She really liked the person she was turning into, this confident, more assertive, corporate Pam Beesly who owned not one, but two pairs of Chanel sunglasses.

As "Renegade" entered its second chorus, Pam pulled into the parking lot of Dunder-Mifflin's Scranton office. Some of the nervous tension she'd worked out began to creep back up her spine as she thought about seeing Jim for the first time in six months, but she banished the thought as quickly as it had come. Pam was here to train the branch, not to open any old wounds. She was a representative from corporate, and she would act like one.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the shiny doors of the elevator and smiled. She looked professional, but she also looked _hot_. Kelly would be proud when she saw her. It had taken her about an hour to pick out an outfit this morning; she must've changed clothes ten times before settling on a gunmetal grey satin top with a black cropped blazer and pencil skirt. She _was_ going to wear a pair of simple black pumps, but in a rush of daring had reached for her new patent heels instead. They weren't quite stilettos, but the heel was high and thin and frankly, they made Pam feel a little sexy. She'd certainly need the confidence boost for the onslaught of unpleasantness that the day was going to offer.

Her expectations proved to be more than accurate, as fifteen minutes later Pam was sitting in Michael's office on speakerphone with Jan.

"Michael, Pam is the expert here. You do not know how the website works. You absolutely are not qualified to conduct this training session."

"But Jan, I am their _boss_, and Pam is their _receptionist_. Who do you think they take more seriously? They're not gonna learn anything from her if they don't even respect her."

Pam's face registered a degree of anger unlike any Michael had ever seen, and he knew he was in for it.

"Listen, Michael," she snapped. "I used to put up with a _lot_ of, well, complete and utter_ bullshit _in this office as the receptionist, but I am not the receptionist anymore! I am here to train this office on web sales as the **head of graphic design**. I'm not here to answer your questions about my personal life, or to be spoken to inappropriately, and certainly not to have _my_ training sessions interrupted by _you_ making interjections about a system that you know absolutely _nothing_ about! So unless you want this branch to run inexcusably behind in sales, please continue on with your behavior. Otherwise, I suggest you just sit back and relax and _listen_ like everyone else."

"You must be PMSing, so I will let that go."

"Michael!" Jan said testily. "For all means and purposes, Pam is your boss today. So treat her the same way you'd treat me."

Michael giggled, and playfully responded. "I am a one-woman man, Jan."

Pam made a disgusted face, and Jan cleared her throat in frustration.

"Look, Michael. Your office needs this training, and you're going to be quiet and attentive while they get it. Is that understood?"

Michael made a childlike pouting face, and for a second Pam thought he'd throw himself on the floor and have a hissy fit. He was about to speak and inevitably put his foot in his mouth, but Pam beat him to it, remembering how to handle Michael. She thanked Jan and hung up the phone, turning toward Michael, her face gentle.

"I brought presents for everybody, Michael."

His face lit up, her outburst and the unpleasant conversation with Jan completely forgotten. "Really? What kind?"

Pam shook her head. "I can't tell you, but yours is the best one, and you can't have it until after my presentation."

And really, she wasn't lying. Pam had designed Michael's stationery specifically for him. She'd used the simple black and white business style, and above the top stripe she'd embossed "Michael Scott" and below it, in a smaller all-caps font it read "world's best boss." She knew he'd felt betrayed when she left the office for corporate, so she'd made his present special. Everyone else was just going to receive a general sampling of the line, no personalization. Technically, only people from corporate were supposed to have personal stationery, but Pam had pulled a few strings for her former boss. After she promised presents, Michael had reluctantly agreed to stay quiet, and Pam's training session went fairly smoothly.

Jim had stared at her unabashedly throughout her entire presentation, not even bothering to look away when she met his eyes. His expression was stony and angry, which made Pam angry, because _he_ had no right to be angry at _her_. _He_ was the one who told her he loved her and left without a word the next day. So she did a very ballsy, un-Pam like thing and called him on it.

"Jim, did you have a question?" She saw his shoulders tense as he jumped slightly in his chair.

"Uh, yeah, when does this start?" It was obviously a question he'd just come up with, to avoid scrutiny by his coworkers. Pam answered condescendingly.

"As I said earlier, this will be starting after the launch party in January; however, next week you'll all be receiving calls from various people in corporate to test the system and work out any bugs. Any other questions?"

Michael's hand shot up. "PRESENTS!"

Pam couldn't help but smile at his excitement. "Yes! I did bring a sampling of the line for everyone along with your holiday gifts from corporate. If there aren't any other questions, you're all free to go back to your desks and I'll pass everything out shortly."

Everyone had filed out of the room, except for a shorter man who had acted a whole lot like Michael at the beginning of her presentation. He reminded her of a more obnoxious, sickeningly sycophantic Dwight. He reached out as if to shake her hand, but when Pam reached back he'd taken her hand by the fingers and kissed the top before releasing it.

"Hey," he said with a slight chin-jerk. "Name's Andrew Bernard. _Andy if you're nasty_."

Pam eyes widened in shock and she compulsively looked to her right, seeking out Jim's eyes, waiting to meet his amused glance with one of her own. When she was met by empty space, she realized what she was doing, and why she couldn't. Pam looked back at Andy's expecting face, contemplating saying something back, but instead only turned and left the conference room, shaking her head.

Michael had very nearly cried at the reception desk when he opened his stationery. He'd torn open the wrapping paper with childlike excitement, but handled the pages with what Pam could only describe as reverence, running his fingers over the slightly raised letters. He lifted his eyes to hers, slightly moist, and said "You think so?" in a small voice. Pam smiled warmly and nodded, truly touched by his appreciation. But like all Michael Scott moments, it came to an end as soon as he spoke again.

"Is it okay to hug you now that you're hot?"

She heard Jim's chuckle from behind her, and turned around with a grin and a "what can you do?" look on her face. His face quickly transformed from his easy smile to blankness as he busied himself with papers on his desk, and Pam cursed her reflexes as she suddenly remembered her anger, her face shifting back into a mask of corporate seriousness. She'd been away from Scranton for six months, but Jim was still firmly entrenched in her subconscious.

Jim found her alone in Michael's office after she passed out the gift bags. She was sitting behind Michael's desk completely engrossed in paperwork when he quietly stepped inside. She didn't notice him until she heard the soft 'click' of the door closing behind him and looked up, startled, but quickly composed herself. She raised her eyebrows at him, indicating that she was listening as she continued to leaf through the papers, making sure she'd filled them all out.

"Hey," he said softly. "Uhm, that was really cool, what you did for Michael. He seemed pretty upset when he heard you were coming in. I think he used the word 'treason' more than once."

Pam laughed in spite of herself, her cool expression giving way to a small smile.

"Yeah? Well you should have seen him after you left." Like someone flipped a switch, Pam's icy expression was back. She dropped her eyes from his as she busied herself with the papers on the desk, hoping he'd just get the hint and leave. When he didn't, she looked up again, irritated.

"Did you have a question? Because today was mainly an overview. We're going more in-depth over the rest of the week, so it'll probably be answered then."

Jim bristled, a hand going to the back of his neck, an exasperated gesture that Pam knew well. "No, I, uh, I guess I just want to offer a truce, even though I don't really know why _you're_ mad at _me_."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "Really?" she asked pointedly, rising from the desk. She was glad the blinds were closed, because this was not going to be pretty.

"Enlighten me," he shot back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Pam opened her mouth to speak but decided she'd show him instead, crossing the office in two short strides to stand in front of him. Before she could second-guess herself, she put a hand on either side of his face and crushed his lips to hers. He responded quickly, an arm making its way around her waist while his fingers threaded through her hair, pulling her closer still. He groaned as their hips aligned, and Pam slipped her tongue into his mouth briefly before breaking the kiss abruptly and wrenching herself from his grasp.

"Because you did _that_, and then left when I told you I couldn't. You didn't even give me a day to think about it before you just _left_, without even saying goodbye."

"What was there to think about, Pam? It's something you either feel or you don't."

"It was a month before my _wedding_, Jim! You really expected me to make a decision right then? Throw away ten years of my life because you kissed me and I felt something? I might do something like that _now_, Jim, but I was _scared_ back then. You were my best friend, Jim. I knew I loved you on that level, but I was afraid to think about anything else. I needed time, and you just _left_. Thanks for telling me you were considering a transfer, by the way."

Pam waited for him to respond, but Jim just stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at the floor. She picked up her purse from behind Michael's desk and walked toward the door. Pam glanced up at him as she put her hand on the doorknob and saw the tears in his eyes, feeling herself soften. He really hadn't thought about it that way at all. She felt a pang of something like sympathy, and placed her hand on his arm. He wouldn't meet her eyes, but she spoke anyway.

"I said 'I can't', Jim. Not 'I don't'."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: So, how long has it been? Forever, I know. I don't have an excuse, except for school and a hurricane (you know, small stuff). I hope there are still some of you who read this little story, and if you do exist, you can thank Elly10 for this chapter.

City Lights

Chapter Three

Around four, Pam was lingering around the reception desk making small talk with Toby and the woman who had taken her place in the front of the office. Considering the coffee cup she was holding was only an attempt to mask the shaking of her hands, Pam thought she was doing pretty well.

The new receptionist was a pudgy older woman named Stella who wore her glasses with one of those strands of beads that keeps you from losing them, and knitted tiny socks and hats between phone calls and faxes, presumably for her grandchildren. Her brown hair was streaked thickly with gray, and her smile was grandmotherly and comforting. She smiled every time she answered the phone, and Michael visibly (and sometimes audibly) cringed every time he looked at her, probably because of her non-hotness. Stella didn't seem to be the pranking type, which made Pam just a little bit happy.

Unfortunately, Stella and Toby weren't much in the way of conversation, and Pam found herself bored in a lull, wondering if she looked the same way Stella did, wearing cardigans and answering phones. Pam hoped she hadn't looked so old, but according to Kelly, Pam's former wardrobe was definitely meant for someone many years Pam's senior.

Pam was pulled from her thoughts by a tap on her shoulder. When she turned around, an exotic-looking woman was extending her hand and smiling. Pam took it.

"Hi…Kirsten?"

The woman laughed good-naturedly and shook her head. "Karen. Karen Fillipelli."

Pam cringed. "Sorry, Karen. There are just so many new people here; and it doesn't help that I'm really bad with names. I'll remember you from now on, I promise."

Karen nodded in agreement. "I know what you mean."

Pam's eyebrows knit in confusion. "But didn't the Stamford merger happen months ago? Surely you know everyone by now."

Karen was quick to correct herself. "Oh, no! What's left of the Stamford branch is getting along just fine, but the lovely and vivacious Stella here is our fifth receptionist in three months. Michael keeps finding something wrong with them, and, well, have you seen _The Devil Wears Prada_?"

Pam nodded knowingly. "Michael's got a huge thing for Meryl Streep."

"Wow," Karen sounded as though she'd found the missing piece of a puzzle. "That explains… _so_ much."

"I can only imagine."

"Yesterday he told Stella that she isn't going to Paris. And this morning he brought this in." Karen pointed to a candelabra sitting on the reception desk. "I haven't figured that out yet."

"Hmm… Oh!" Pam half-shouted, excitedly. "_Death Becomes Her_! God, that's from like, the nineties."

"I remember that movie! It was my favorite when I was like, twelve."

"Yes! Oh! Oh no. Michael is going to try to stick that through someone. Can Stella take a joke?"

Karen shook her head. "I don't think she knows what a joke _is._ Jan let Toby hire her; I'm surprised that alone didn't get her canned."

"What was 'wrong' with the others?"

"Well, Michael wasn't really too specific about that. He'd call them into his office, pretend to cry while ejecting them from our 'family', then say something about a hamster. Or Spamalot. It's really hard to tell."

Pam nodded knowingly, smiling ruefully at the sheer Michael-ness. "Except he said it 'Spamster'? 'Spamela'?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"Hi, I'm Spamela. Spamster. Pamalama ding dong. And Pam-bo, which I think is supposed to be a combination of Pam and Rambo. And if he says anything about treason, that's probably me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I was the receptionist here until I took an internship and got promoted."

"Ohhh," Karen said, like she'd just placed the last piece in a puzzle. "So you're the one Halpert had a thing for! That explains why he's been all surly today."

Pam coughed into her cup, nearly choking on her sip of coffee as Jim appeared as if summoned from behind Karen, using her shoulder as an armrest. Karen's face lit up like a firecracker, and Jim smiled down at her. The sheer familiarity of the gestures made Pam want to vomit. Instead, she just smiled politely and waited for their little 'moment' to be over while silently applauding her own professionalism.

"Sorry, Pam," Jim said. "This one's nice, but she gets pretty nosy." Karen elbowed him in the ribs, and Jim pretended to be wounded. "And her elbows are unbelievably sharp. Like, the devil's elbows."

"Noted." Pam lifted her wrist to check a watch she wasn't wearing. "Actually, I've got to get going. There's a long drive ahead of me, and I've got to do it all over again in the morning. It was nice meeting you, Karen, and I'll see you guys bright and early tomorrow."

And with a quick wave, she was out the door.

… … …

Pam called Josephine the second she got to her car. She'd nearly reached critical mass, and needed somewhere to vent.

"I kissed him, Josie! Tell me, what the hell was I thinking? God, I shouldn't have ever come back to Scranton. I'm so embarrassed. I don't know what to do with myself. I kissed him!"

"That is quite a 'hello,' dear."

"Sorry," Pam started over. "Hi, Josie, how are you today?" she said cheerily.

"Oh, I'm just fine," the older woman responded breezily. "I spent all day in Neiman's, and I didn't buy a thing."

Pam laughed in spite of herself. "Liar."

"Well, not anything special."

"Right."

"Fine, fine. I bought three hats."

"Three hats _and…_?" Pam prodded.

"Matching shoes and handbags. I swear, you are the worst tenant I've ever had."

"I'm the _only_ tenant you've ever had, and you love me."

"So, who did you kiss?"

"Oh _god_," Pam groaned, reliving the mortification of the day. "I kissed Jim."

"_The_ Jim?"

"Yes, _the_ Jim." Pam pressed her hand to her forehead. "I'm supposed to be _over_ this, but no! I yelled at him, and then I kissed him. What the hell was I _thinking_?"

"Oh, dear. Then what?"

"I bolted out of there, got a cup of coffee, and went to talk to the new receptionist."

"Pamela, honey…"

"That's not even the worst part! While I'm up at reception this new girl, Karen or Kirsten or _whatever_, just ambushes me. And at first it's okay and we're talking about how many receptionists Michael's gone through since the old one left. The old one that Jim _had_ a thing for. Had! Past tense!"

"But that doesn't necessarily mean…"

"And then Jim comes up and practically puts his arm around her, and the way he talks to her, it just- ugh! And did I mention that she's totally gorgeous? And I felt all frumpy, even in my new shoes."

"Pamela," Josephine said, sternly. "Number one: You are a beautiful woman, and you never looked otherwise a day in your life."

"But-" Pam began to protest.

"No buts. I've seen a lot of beautiful people in my day, young lady, and you are a beautiful person. I don't want to hear another word about it." At Pam's silence she continued. "And second: how do you _practically_ put your arm around someone? It seems like something that either is or isn't."

"He did that shoulder-armrest thing that tall people do to shorter people." Pam opened her car door to pour out her now-cold coffee, sitting sideways in the driver's seat with her legs outside.

"Ah. So it was a friendly gesture, then?"

"I guess it could have been, but-"

"But it made you jealous." Josephine finished for her.

"No!" Pam exclaimed. "It didn't. I just- I don't know."

"Yes you do, Pamela."

"Fine! I'm jealous. Seeing Jim with another girl Made. Me. Jealous. Jesus, it's like I'm sixteen. Are you happy now?"

A voice from the other side of her open door startled her. "To hear that? Yeah."

"Oh, for the love of-! Josephine, I'll have to call you back."

"Hands to yourself, dear."

"Funny. Bye."

Pam flicked her phone shut and stood to face Jim, thoroughly embarrassed and somewhat glad for the barrier her car door provided as she regained some semblance of composure.

"Eavesdropping, Jim?"

"Well I was going to, but you kind of yelled that last part." He half-smiled at her.

Pam smiled in spite of…well, whatever it was she felt. "Then I apologize."

Jim smiled back. "Apology accepted."

"Listen, Jim," she started, pretending not to notice the way his face fell or how his mouth set itself in a hard, thin line at the words no good news ever followed. "I'm sorry, really, about earlier. I shouldn't have done that. You're seeing somebody, and that's totally great. It was- unprofessional of me."

"Unprofessional," he repeated slowly. "So that's how it's going to be?"

She could tell he was angry. "How _what_'sgoing to be?"

"_Us_, Pam," he said, the anger in his voice tinged by a note of pleading.

She wanted to yell at him, but she'd already done that once today. Instead, she ran an exasperated hand through her hair and took a deep breath before she spoke, exhaling shakily.

"What _us_?" Pam fought to keep her voice gentle. "Before today, we hadn't seen or spoken to each other in _months_. That's not- we're not even friends anymore, and I thought-" Pam felt tears sting her eyes, and willed them not to fall. "I thought we'd always have that. We've just- we've hurt each other so much, Jim, and I don't know if we can come back from that. I wouldn't know where to start."

They stood in silence for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, looking anywhere but at each other. A fat tear started down Pam's cheek, and she turned that side of her face away from him as she wiped it away. She was about to make an excuse to leave when Jim's voice interrupted their awkward quiet.

"Let's start over."

"What?"

"You said you wouldn't know where to start. So…let's start at the beginning." He extended his hand to her and smiled a crooked smile when she shook it. "Hi, I'm Jim. And you are…?"

"Pam Beesly," she replied, grinning so wide it almost hurt. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey, it's the other story, that I also haven't updated in forever! Sorry it's been so long and whatnot. I hope you enjoy it, review if you'd like.

City Lights

Chapter Four

Pam hated David Wallace.

Here she was at her fancy launch party, happily sipping martinis with her design team and basking in the constant stream of praise from guests when she saw him walk in. Of course, she knew that David was attending, and on normal days she certainly liked him well enough to say hello in the hallways of Dunder-Mifflin and joke around from time to time, but tonight he was the object of her complete, unadulterated loathing.

David Wallace had invited Jim Halpert. Directly. Personally. Secretly. Okay, maybe not intentionally or maliciously secretly, but Pam was unaware nonetheless and she had to be pissed at something.

Jim Halpert, whose brilliant idea of a complete do-over of their ill-fated friendship had crashed and burned in the weeks following the end of Pam's training sessions. And that was fine, she thought. Whatever. They had made it through the remainder of the week without fighting or kissing again, and wasn't that the entire point of the exercise, anyway? She probably wouldn't have to go to the Scranton branch anymore, wouldn't see him again, and maybe, _maybe_, she could try to finally just _move on_ already because frankly, she was annoying even herself pining over him when he was probably off figuring out of Karen's legs could bend behind her head.

So Pam had let Kelly talk her into buying a dress that was, in Kelly's words, "like, _super_ classy but still a little 'hey, look at my boobs!' you know?," a strapless navy blue number with a tight bodice and flared cocktail-length skirt. It was the single most expensive article of clothing Pam had ever bought, but the feeling she got wearing it was worth every penny. And Kelly was right; it _did_ make her boobs look amazing. She'd blown her hair out straight and fixed it in a trendy half-up, half-down little bouffant, with her dramatic highlights brightening her face. Kelly had even persuaded her to wear eyeliner, something that Pam rarely did despite her increased femininity. Pam looked beautiful, and for once she felt comfortable in her own skin.

All of that confidence was shattered the second she saw Jim, whose eyes widened briefly in what Pam assumed was panic upon meeting hers. A glance to his left told her why; Karen was glued to his side, looking effortlessly gorgeous in a little black cocktail dress. They looked like the Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie of Dunder-Mifflin, and Pam couldn't help but feel like the jilted, plain Jennifer Aniston. She hoped they'd at least wait until they left the party before adopting seventeen children from various impoverished countries.

Pam really needed to stop talking to Kelly.

"Pam!"

The sound of her name snapped Pam out of her thoughts, and she found herself face to face with a concerned-looking Ian, a full-time member of her design team who hailed from Sydney, who Pam thought looked like Joseph Gordon-Levitt. She had to blink twice and shake her head before her eyes would focus on him completely.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Really, is that so? Because we were talking about getting more drinks, and then you went pale and zonked out."

"Yeah," she assured him, her smile brighter than she felt. "I'm great. Just nervous about the big speech is all."

"Okay," Ian looked less than convinced, but he didn't push it either, for which Pam was extremely grateful. Instead, he gestures to the bar, where the rest of the design team is sitting, and offers her his arm. "Shall we?"

She tossed a glance in Jim's direction (he's watching), and took Ian's arm.

"We shall."

… … …

Pam's speech was a rousing success.

Jan had introduced her as "Dunder-Mifflin's golden girl, a woman who has literally in the span of a year pulled this company off of the chopping block, Miss Pamela Beesly," and Pam couldn't help the feeling of sheer pride that washed over her. It was a feeling Pam hadn't felt in a long time, but it was a welcome one, and Pam practically glowed with it as she delivered her speech.

The speech itself was equal parts professional and funny, and by the end Pam had the entire room both dying with laughter and highly optimistic about the future of the company. Pam had done her job, and she had done it well. She felt like patting herself on the back, but resisted the urge as she headed down the steps from the stage, the crowd still applauding her.

Pam's urge was quickly sated by her design team, who had gathered at the bottom of the steps and enveloped Pam in a group hug. With her team around her, all of them talking over each other and sharing the same excited sentiment, Pam found that she could care less what one Jim Halpert thought of her. She found herself grinning, and completely unable and unwilling to stop. She didn't look around to meet Jim's eyes, and instead just relished the almost familiar feelings of accomplishment and pride without the need to share them with anyone. It occurred to her in that moment that this was probably the happiest day of her life.

Ian had picked her up and was spinning her around as she laughed when her eyes suddenly became level with Jim's. While she couldn't deny the stab of hurt that she felt at the sight of him with Karen, tonight her happiness was impermeable.

"Ian! Ian, put me down!" she said, still laughing. When her feet touched the floor, she turned to Jim and Karen, her smile bright, the tulle from her dress still swishing about her knees. "Hey, guys!" she greeted. When she noticed Jim staring (glaring) at the man who'd been lifting her, Pam remembered her manners. "This is Ian Graham," she introduced. "And this is the rest of the team. Team, Jim and Karen. Jim and Karen, Team."

"Hi, Team!" Karen punctuated her greeting with a wave in their direction. The team waved back, and Karen returned her attention to Pam. "We just wanted to come say congratulations." Karen was the first to speak.

"Yeah," Jim added with a small smile, his eyes warm and sincere. "This is really amazing."

"So, question," Pam started. "Earlier tonight, Michael gave me a copy of _Hop on Pop_. Please tell me you have some idea what that means."

Jim let out a bark of laughter before explaining. "Barnes and Noble was out of _Oh, The Places You'll Go_. I told him to pick what he thought was the next best thing."

"That's… really unsettling and gross, Jim. Thanks."

"Anytime, Beesly."

"I was about to do something really cool, too."

Jim smirked. "Really? Cooler than this?" he asked, gesturing at the already spectacular room.

"Way," Pam confirmed. "But I don't know now…"

"Oh, come on," Karen protested. "You _have_ to. You got us all excited."

"Yeah, what she said," Jim added, nodding his agreement.

"Okay, but first- You guys have seen _Anchorman_?"

Jim and Karen nodded.

"And _Top Gun_?"

"Those are like, the two greatest movies of all time." _Damn_. Pam really hadn't wanted to like Karen.

"And you're not averse to being serenaded?"

Jim and Karen shook their heads, Karen more vehemently than Jim.

"They are _so_ going to owe me ten bucks," Pam said conspiratorially, mostly to herself. "If you'll excuse me, I've got to go warn David and flirt with the DJ."

… … …

Pam found David Wallace leaning against a large window on the opposite side of the room, looking as if he'd rather throw himself through it than make pleasantries with party guests. Pam leaned against it as well and gazed out at the illuminated New York City skyline, the thick glass chilly against her bare shoulder. She'd been in the city for nearly a year now, but the sight of the skyscrapers all lit up at night still took her breath away. Sometimes Pam had a hard time believing that she belonged here, that this city was her home.

"It never gets old, does it?" David asked, as if he'd read her mind.

Pam smiled and shook her head. "Nope."

"You know, I hate these parties." David said with a sigh. Then, considering his present company, added sheepishly, "No offense."

"None taken," she replied genuinely. "Honestly, I just like having an excuse to dress up."

David laughed, taking a sip of his caramel-colored drink. "Well you do look very nice tonight, Miss Beesly."

"Thank you." Pam gracefully accepted his compliment, blushing slightly. It occurred to her later that night that it was the first she'd received in quite some time. "So, I made this bet with my team," she started.

"Oh yeah?" David seemed interested, grateful to talk about anything but paper.

Pam nodded. "I bet them ten bucks they wouldn't re-enact the bar scene from _Top Gun_. I get to pick where, when, and who."

"That…is an interesting wager."

"It gets better," she continued excitedly. "I noticed you invited Jim Halpert, from Scranton."

"Right. He's a promising young salesman, and not too shabby at basketball."

"Well, I think I'll pick him, tonight, and in ten minutes. Do I have your permission?"

David pretended to mull it over for a second before enthusiastically granting her request.

… … …

Exactly ten minutes later, Pam was on the stage again.

"Hello again, everyone," Pam started. "I know, you're probably sick of me by now, but the design department does a lot of…teambuilding exercises, and tonight we'd like to share our favorite one with you. It's short, fun, and silly, and we hope you enjoy it.

Design Team….ASSEMBLE!"

As soon as the team gathered behind her, the lights in the room dimmed and a spotlight shone on Pam and the team. It followed them as they made their way through the audience, and continued as the first strains of a familiar song began to play. As the design team reached their destination, forming a circle around Jim and Karen, he shot her a shocked look as Karen bounced excitedly. Pam only winked in response, a mischievous grin on her face. The team began to sing and dance, exaggerated gestures perfectly matching the cheesiness of the song. Pam stood front-and-center, enjoying the best view of the scene.

_You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your li-i-ips_

_And there's no tenderness like before in your fingerti-i-ips_

_You're trying hard not to show it, baby_

At "baby," more people in the crowd joined in, just like the scene in _Top Gun_. Pam was surprised and delighted not only that the people she'd invited had a sense of humor, but also that her silly bet-prank had turned into a full blown sing-along. She glanced across the circle at David, who had joined in, and then at Jim, who had turned several shades of red, all at once.

_But baby, believe me I know it!_

_You've lost that lovin' feelin'_

_Oh, that lovin' feelin'_

_You've lost that lovin' feelin'_

_Now it's gone, gone, gone_

_Whoa-oh-oh_

Despite his earlier consent, Jim Halpert did not take kindly to being serenaded. Pam didn't know if it was the song or the fact that they'd drawn everybody's attention, but after the first chorus he shoved his way through the crowd and out the door. Karen, who was reveling in both, didn't seem to notice Jim's sudden departure.

Pam was shocked to find that she was more annoyed than concerned as she reluctantly went after him, leaving the rest of the party to finish up the song. It wasn't that Pam didn't care how Jim felt- admittedly, the song was a poor choice given their past, but he'd been warned. Pam had made what was about to happen more than obvious, and if he hadn't answered in the affirmative she could easily have picked someone else. Frankly, she thought Jim was being kind of a baby.

It didn't occur to her until she pushed the door open that she had no idea what to say to him.

… … …

She found him an hour later on the roof, sitting on a bench in the garden, which, by the looks of things, was dead for the winter. It had probably been gorgeous in the summer, but not much had survived December, which had been bitterly cold. Pam was glad she'd remembered her coat, because January hadn't offered much of an improvement.

He hadn't so much as looked up when the elevator door opened, and as Pam came closer she could see why. Next to Jim on the bench was a half-empty bottle of something, and his disheveled hair and heavy-lidded eyes told her that the rest was probably in him. She was standing directly in front of him, but he still hadn't moved, hadn't taken his eyes off of his hands, which sat folded in front of him, fingers loosely woven. He hiccupped loudly, his shoulders jerking up, and Pam could have sworn he saw her as he loosened his tie.

"I know it's an open bar, Jim, but I think you may have abused the privilege."

At the sound of her voice, Jim's head snapped up, meeting her eyes with a furious glare. So he hadn't seen her, and by the looks of things, he didn't seem to want to. Pam sighed heavily, crossing her arms in front of her, and tried to remember why she felt compelled to follow him in the first place. She was definitely regretting it now.

"If you've got something to say, just go ahead and say it," she spat testily. "Please."

He laughed bitterly, his smile almost garish. "Oh, I think I've said enough. 'Member, Pam? Because I don't know if you do or not. You seem to've forgotten allllll about it."

_Awesome_. "Right. Okay," Pam started, her voice tense with checked anger. "Yeah, I'm not gonna do this right now." She had turned around and was about to start walking to the elevator when Jim spoke again.

"Is it because you... _can't_?" The words rolled off of his tongue with venom, and the look on his face when she turned back to face him, eyes wild with unadulterated fury, told her he regretted them immediately.

"No, Jim, there's a difference. I _could_," she said icily. "But I _won't_."

She watched the color drain from his face before heading for the elevator again.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I really hope there are still some of you out there who haven't given up on this story. It's been... a while since I've written anything. I don't think things are going to be so easy for Jim and Pam in this story, but don't lose faith! Or should you? Sometimes love is about bittersweet affection and chances just barely missed... Anyway, read and review if you'd like- I'm feeling pretty good about this story, new chapters imminent!

City Lights

Chapter Five

Pam was halfway to the rooftop elevator, her heels clicking rhythmically as she walked away from Jim when she heard a sickly gurgle from behind her, quickly followed by a loud splash. _Great,_ she thought, turning around with a heavy sigh. She hadn't wanted or expected to see Jim tonight in the first place, and she especially could have done without seeing drunk, sick, heaving Jim, who was at that moment bent unbecomingly over a clump of dead bushes.

"Do you want me to go get Karen?" she called, shoving her hands into her coat pockets.

"Do not-" he stopped abruptly, pausing to put a hand over his mouth, closing his eyes for a second, probably trying to suppress another bout of nausea. When he opened them again, it took a second for them to focus on her. "_Please_ don't get Karen."

Pam looked at him, perplexed, as he heaved once more into those unfortunate bushes. Had she felt at all like being merciful, she probably would have waited until he was finished before speaking again. But she hadn't, and she didn't.

"Why not? Someone needs to take care of you, and it's sure as hell not going to be me."

"But who better qualified than you, Pam?" he said with surprising coherency, a bitter smile overtaking his features, twisting his face so that she barely recognized him. "I mean you've got what, nine, ten years of experience?"

"God, you're just trying to push my buttons!" she cried, finally angry enough to take his bait. "You know what? Roy may have done a lot of stupid shit, but do you know what he didn't do? He didn't just _leave_ after I told _him_ I couldn't. Roy waited around for months- _months!-_ waiting to see if I'd changed my mind, even after I moved here! Roy was a lot of things, okay? But at least he wasn't a fucking _coward._"

She paused to offer him a chance to speak, but he just continued staring at her, stone-faced, so she continued on with her tirade, her anger nowhere near spent.

"You think you know me so _fucking _well, Jim, but you obviously didn't know that I wasn't too good at being honest, especially not with myself. What, did you think that one kiss was going to turn my world up-side-fucking-down and something would snap in my brain and all of a sudden I'd realize that I wasn't in love with my _fiancé_ of ten years anymore? And that in some unprecedented rush of clarity it would also occur to me that I was in love with my _best friend_, who, in his own words, was "totally over" whatever crush he may have harbored for me _years_ ago? God_damnit_, Jim!"

This time she paused primarily for breath. Jim's stone-face had softened into an expression of pure pain, and Pam felt herself soften a little, too.

"Look, Jim, I'm done," she said, her tone resigned, her arms, once animated, were hanging at her sides limply. "I don't want to do this anymore. I'm done fighting with you, I'm done being mad at you, I'm just- I'm done with _this. _I used to like being around you because you made me like myself, and I don't like me very much right now."

… … …

At precisely seven-thirty the next morning, Pam turned on every single light in her apartment. She lit every candle she owned, and even opened her refrigerator before grabbing a pot and a wooden spoon and parading through her living room making as much noise as humanly possible.

She was met with a sea of groans as her passed-out design team struggled with consciousness, including a stray "WHY?" (from Michaela, near the fireplace), a "HOW COULD YOU?" (from Pete, on the much sought-after 'comfy' sofa) and an "I thought you loved us" (from Kate B., who was the shortest person on the team, and therefore assigned by default to the loveseat).

"Rise and shine, guys!" Pam sing-songed as she poked some of her less lively coworkers with the spoon handle. "Get up, get moving, let's go, get out!"

"Such a slave driver," Pete groaned.

"I have a whip and I will crack it, Pete!" she called back. "Lauren, Tim, Hannah, Other Kate! Look alive!"

"Ten more minutes," whined Other Kate from the floor. Her last name was Thomas, but she refused to be called Kate T, because she hated the name Katy just as much as Pam did. Pam nudged Other Kate in the ribs with her foot, prompting the intern to open her eyes and glare up at her.

"We had a deal, guys!" Pam yelled. "You can get drunk and pass out here, but you have to be out of here by, let's see-" Pam pretended to check a watch she wasn't wearing. "-by now. So leave."

Not one single person stood up.

"I made coffee in the fancy machine, and there's Advil in the kitchen for all of you. Use the to-go cups, and then, well, go."

Approximately thirty seconds later, a small, disheveled crowd had formed around Pam's fancy coffeemaker. Though she was slightly offended that she'd had to bribe them, Pam couldn't keep herself from laughing at their appearance; they were certainly a rough-looking group, practically climbing over one another in rumpled eveningwear to get to the coffee, all half-zipped and glaring at each other.

Ten minutes later, the apartment was empty. Pam closed the refrigerator, blew out her candles, turned off all but the necessary lights, and curled up on her newly vacant sofa to read. But given the previous night's events, Pam couldn't focus on a single word, and instead grabbed her phone to call Josephine.

…

Two hours later, Pam and Josephine were in Bloomingdale's, indulging in some much-needed retail therapy while Pam filled the older woman in on the details of the launch party. Pam hadn't been much of a shopper back in Scranton, but Kelly and Josephine had taught her to take comfort in small indulgences, although Josephine's definition of a "small indulgence" was anything that didn't have to be delivered home in a truck.

"I still don't see why he got so upset- it was a _joke_. He agreed to it!"

"I know, dear, but don't you think you were a bit hard on him?"

"He started it," Pam muttered, aware of how childish it sounded.

"Yes, he did," Josephine said thoughtfully as she perused a rack of faux-fur coats. "But you certainly did finish it."

"Because I _had_ to," Pam insisted. "I love Jim. I really do, but last night he just wasn't… He wasn't the Jim I fell in love with, and I'm not the same old Pam, either, and maybe," she paused, tears threatening her voice, "maybe we missed our chance. Maybe we weren't even meant to have one."

"Pamela," Josephine started, looking pointedly at the sullen young woman over her glasses. "Number one: the blouse you're holding is hideous. Put it down. And number two: you're running, and you know it. You're just as guilty of that as Jim is. So you're not the same people anymore- give your new selves a chance."

Pam was silent, mulling over Josephine's words as she thumbed absently through an assortment of cardigan sweaters.

"You should give this a chance, too," Josephine ended the silence, handing Pam a long belted cashmere wrap sweater in the most intense royal purple that Pam had ever seen. She wasn't sure if the sweater was a joke or a serious suggestion, but it was quickly growing on her. Pam nodded and draped the sweater over her arm with her other selections.

"Oh, Pamela, that was a joke! It looks like a bathrobe."

"Too late!" Pam declared, a grin stretching across her face. "I like it, and I fully intend to wear it in public."

Josephine was appalled. "You do not."

"I do," Pam responded defiantly. "And I'll tell everybody you picked it out for me."

"Pamela Beesly, you are-"

"The worst tenant you've ever had," Pam finished, rolling her eyes. "And you love me."


End file.
